


Bated Breath

by Vanata37



Series: Breathing Room [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anti-Ron, Extramarital Affairs, F/M, Face Punching, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Not Epilogue Compliant, Post-War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:47:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26943895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vanata37/pseuds/Vanata37
Summary: And just like that, every good thing in her life came crashing to a halt. Her smile fell, and for a moment, she forgot how to breathe. There, on the sofa in the middle of the living room, was her husband, shirtless, laying on top of one of the Auror assistants, whose name Hermione couldn’t remember, with his head buried in her neck.Prequel to Just Another Deep Breath
Relationships: Hermione Granger & Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Series: Breathing Room [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1966066
Comments: 10
Kudos: 110





	Bated Breath

**Author's Note:**

> A prequel to my other story, Just Another Deep Breath. Thank you so much for all your kudos and comments! Sending all my love to you!

It was a typical, warm Thursday afternoon at the beginning of August. Hermione Granger had just finished signing off on another law to pass over to her boss, this one increasing the minimum wages for house-elves. She was proud of the work she had accomplished in past few years. She was only twenty-seven and already the Head of the Being Division of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. The house-elves currently had equal opportunity within the Ministry and the private sector, though none of the house-elves had taken up the opportunity. They were all still serving the homes they grew up in, which was fine with Hermione, just as long as they were happy. All estates were required to be listed on a registry (which she had helped create) and were subjected to scheduled and surprise checks, to be sure the house-elves were treated according to current law. Hermione had put in so much work into the well-being of all Beings; it truly felt as if her work mattered and was appreciated. Hermione sighed as she heard the grandfather clock down the hall of her office chime three times.

“Three o’clock already? I haven’t even had lunch yet,” Hermione told her empty office. She stood up from her desk, gathered the official parchments together, and walked out of her door. “Lilah, could you have these sent to Mr. Vassar when you get a moment? Urgently please?” Hermione set the parchment stack onto her assistant’s desk that sat just outside her office.

“No problem, Mrs. Weasley. I’ll get right on it.” Lilah Montgomery was an eighteen-year-old girl, fresh out of Hogwarts. She wasn’t the quickest with her work, but she was sweet enough. Hermione knew there was a learning curve to the position and hoped Lilah would stay long enough to get over the hump. She sometimes required too much out of her assistant and was honestly working on her perfectionism.

“I haven’t taken lunch yet. Since the cafeteria is already closed for the day, I’m just going to head home for a quick break, in case anyone comes looking for me,” Hermione said, trying to keep a pleasant tone in her voice. She was already on her third assistant of the year and slowly gaining a reputation; she really didn’t want to lose another.

“No problem, Mrs. Weasley,” Lilah repeated. “Enjoy your lunch.” Hermione nodded, giving her a soft smile, and walked toward the Floo network to head home.

It was a one bedroom apartment in Hogsmeade, right above Madam Puddifoot’s, with a beautiful bay window overlooking the pathway. It was perfect for her, Ron, and Crookshanks, until they decided to expand their family. They hadn’t had that conversation yet, but Hermione was feeling more confident by the day that that was road she wanted to be on. She had a great a job and fantastic friends; Ron loved his job as Auror as well, working with Harry. Their lives were going perfectly, and she could see herself becoming a mother some day soon. Hermione took a deep breath, with a smile on her face, as she opened her apartment door.

And just like that, every good thing in her life came crashing to a halt. Her smile fell, and for a moment, she forgot how to breathe. There, on the sofa in the middle of the living room, was her husband, shirtless, laying on top of one of the Auror assistants, whose name Hermione couldn’t remember, with his head buried in her neck. His hands couldn’t be seen, being placed underneath her shirt. The girl had her skirt lifted up, her head elevated on the armrest. They locked eyes, and Hermione gasped, remembering to breathe.

“Ron...Ron...” the girl whispered, slapping his shoulder blade to grab his attention. Ron lifted his head from her neck to look at her. He noticed she was no longer in the throws of passion and looked behind him, finding Hermione still standing in the doorway.

“Hermione!” Ron shouted, instantly distancing himself from the girl and pulling his pants up from around his knees. “What are you doing here?”

“I came home for something to eat,” Hermione replied, still taking in the scene before her. The jet black-haired girl sat up, pulled her shirt down, and started to fiddle with the end of her skirt, not daring to look at Hermione. “Though I’m finding myself not very hungry anymore. Sorry to interrupt. If you’ll excuse me.” She glanced at Ron as he searched for his discarded shirt. She marched back out of the door, hearing a quick “Wait, where are you going?” from Ron, but not bothering to stop. Tears were starting to form, and she didn’t want him to see them.

Hermione went through the Floo network, back to the Ministry, but instead of going back to her office, she got into the lift to take her to level two. After the lift carried her to the correct floor, she marched down the hallway, past Harry’s assistant’s desk and straight into his office, grateful for not running into anyone on the way. Hermione stopped right in front of his desk, hands clenched, not saying a word. She was clearly interrupting something, seeing Seamus standing next to Harry, who was sitting at his desk. She couldn’t care less about work at the moment; her life was in the middle of collapsing.

“Um..Harry, I think I’ll look into it further and let you know,” Seamus said, stumbling over his words upon looking at Hermione’s expression. He gathered up the parchments they had been looking over and walked to the door. “You want this closed?” Neither Harry nor Hermione responded, but she heard the door close with a soft click.

“Ron’s cheating on me,” she said quietly as her tears finally escaped their imprisonment. Harry gasped at the information given.

“He finally told you?” Harry asked, wanting clarification from her. She was about to repeat herself out of force of habit, when her mind caught up to what he had asked.

“ _Finally?_ What do you mean _finally?_ ” Her sad tears turned into angry ones, her fingernails forming crescents in her palms.

“I had been trying to convince him to tell you-” he tried responding, but she interrupted him, her voice growing louder.

“You knew? You knew. How long has this been going on?” Harry hesitated for a heartbeat too long. “Tell me!”

“I’ve known since March, but Hermione-” he started, but Hermione interrupted him again.

“Six months!? I cannot believe this...” Her voice trailed off as she marched over to the door, slamming it open. Hermione caught sight of Seamus kneeling on the floor with his ear where the door handle had been; he looked ashamed, as if he had just been caught with his hand in a cookie jar. She ignored him and went on her rampage down the hallway.

“Hermione, wait!” She heard Harry calling behind her, but continued marching to her next destination. “Hermione!” After crossing the threshold of the nearby office, she finally turned around to confront Harry.

“How many other people knew, huh?” Hermione asked rhetorically. “Do you all just stand around, gossiping about me during working hours? It’s all one big joke, isn’t it? And I’m the punchline. Well, I’m not laughing, Harry! Maybe you should ask George for some new material.” She slammed the door shut as Harry tried reaching for her and locked it with a wave of her hand, too upset to realize she performed wandless magic without a thought. She started to pace, trying to stop the tears from falling.

“Hermione, come on! Just hear me out!” She heard Harry calling from the other side of the door. “Malfoy! Open the door!” Hermione stopped pacing and finally faced the other occupant of the room, feeling just as upset as she was while facing Harry. She shook her head at Malfoy, silently begging him not to open the door, not wanting to see her friend at the moment.

“Actually Potter, for your safety, I’m going to keep the door closed,” Malfoy replied calmly, which sounded out of place given the situation. He sat at his desk nonchalantly, with his left foot resting on his right knee. Hermione heard Harry pound on the door, muttering an “I’m your superior,” before Malfoy picked up his wand off his desk and performed a silencing charm on the room.

“Did you know?” Hermione asked him, dangerously quiet. “I know we’ve only been friends for a few years, and you’ve earned my trust over the course. But if I find out you knew and didn’t tell me, I will never be able to trust you again. You hear me? So tell me, did you know?”

“Granger, you’re going to have to be a little more specific for me,” he replied, moving his foot onto the floor and folding his hands on his desk.

“You really have no idea what I’m talking about?” Hermione asked, taking a breath.

“I haven’t the slightest,” Malfoy said, sounding confused and shaking his head slightly. There was a pause of a few seconds as she realized that she believed him.

“Do you remember on the train back to Hogwarts for our eighth year, after the war?” New tears were starting to form in her eyes, as Malfoy looked on at her. “You had asked me where my friends were, and I told you that Harry and Ron had an apprenticeship in the Auror Department and wouldn’t be returning. You made some joke about how I’d be even higher above everyone else in our class without having to do each assignment twice, once for me and once for Ron. I told you not to make fun of my boyfriend. Do you remember what you said to me?” Hermione took a shaky breath, waiting for him to respond.

“I told you,” Malfoy paused to sigh. “‘One of these days, Granger, you’re going to realize he’s not good enough for you. I just hope it’s long before he proves it.’” He said it just as sincerely as he did on the train. Hermione scrunched up her face and covered her mouth gently with her shaky hand, still trying to keep hold of that last bit of dignity she had left. Malfoy kept his eyes on her, patiently waiting.

“Ron’s having an affair,” she whispered quietly. Malfoy didn’t move. At first, Hermione didn’t think he heard her; she was just about to repeat herself a little louder when she saw his eyes darken. It looked as though he were staring straight through her, no longer focused on their conversation. “Malfoy?” Hermione asked, but he didn’t seem to register her at all. His face morphed into his signature scowl. He abruptly stood up, walked over to and opened the door, and began to walk down the hallway in long strides, without another word. Hermione started to follow him but stopped in the doorway.

Ron was talking with Harry next to Harry’s office door, but Hermione couldn’t hear their conversation from where she stood. The jet black-haired girl ( _What was her name? May?_ ) was waiting further down the hallway, looking ashamed, like someone who had just been called to the headmaster’s office. In the amount of time it took for Hermione to take a breath in, Malfoy marched over to Ron and punched him, right square in the face, with no warning. It all happened so fast, as if time had sped up. Hermione barely registered the girl’s frightened yelp. Ron fell onto the floor in the middle of the hallway, taking Malfoy with him. Malfoy held Ron’s shoulder down and got three more quick punches in before Harry wrapped his arm around Malfoy’s left shoulder to pull him off.

“Malfoy, you need to stop! You’re going to kill him!” Hermione heard Harry yell, as Seamus bolted out of his own office and grabbed onto Malfoy’s punching arm to assist Harry.

“Good! I’d be doing the world a favor! Let me go, so I can finish the job,” Malfoy said maliciously, struggling to reach his victim.

“You won’t be doing the world any favors if you end up in Azkaban. You need to calm down!” Harry said, as he and Seamus shoved Malfoy onto his back. After a few moments of struggling, Malfoy lifted his hands up in surrender with breathy “fine” as the three wizards caught their breath. They stood up together, with Harry and Seamus keeping their hands on him, not quite trusting what he would do if they let go. Malfoy kept his hands raised, and Hermione could see his right knuckles begin to purple. They turned around and began to trek past her, no doubt on the way to the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Malfoy kept his eyes to the floor, and Harry muttered a quick “I’ll be right back” but didn’t wait for her response. She didn’t chance a look behind her as the scene became eerily quiet.

Hermione finally looked at Ron, who was lying on his back, now clenching his face and moaning in pain. She then locked eyes with the jet black-haired girl, who was still standing at the end of the hallway. Hermione watched as the girl gasped, as if she was just now taking in everything that had happened. She watched, not daring to move, as the girl rushed over and fell to the floor next to Ron, a place that had been solely Hermione’s until a short while ago. She watched as the girl took her place, helping him sit up and performing an episkey spell on his nose and jaw.

“This is all your fault, you know,” Ron said from his place on the floor, looking at Hermione while the girl began to rub his back in small circles. The blood from his nose was slowly congealing, and his jaw was gradually turning the color of Malfoy’s knuckles.

“How did you come to that conclusion?” Hermione asked evenly, as if questioning him on study material. Ron scoffed at her and then winced, holding his hand up to his jaw. She waited patiently, still not moving from her spot next to Malfoy’s office.

“Well, not only did you sick that ferret after me,” Ron replied with poison in his voice, “but if you had been a decent wife, I wouldn’t have had to seek attention from Summer, and none of this would’ve happened in the first place.” The girl stopped rubbing Ron’s back and put her hands in her lap and looked down, as if trying to become invisible.

“A decent wife?” Hermione asked, perplexed. As far as she knew, they had been happy, so what on earth had happened?

“I love you, Hermione. I really do, but what choice did I have? You’re always working, caring more about house-elves and werewolves than you do about your own husband. If you put as much effort into our marriage as you do your work, we wouldn’t be having this problem. You don’t respect any of the work I do; you don’t even seem to care. You never made me feel like I was on your level; I always felt like I was ten steps behind you, even while we were still at Hogwarts. I mean, when I met Summer, there was this instant connection; I never feel inadequate when I’m with her. She actually listens to me when I talk. She even tries to look good for me and gives me the attention I’ve been missing from you. It’s exciting, you know? If you could try to be all those things I need from you, we could be happy again. I miss that. I miss you.”

It was a lot to take in for Hermione. She glanced at Summer, who hadn’t moved except for her shallow breaths and the tears that were now forming in her eyes. Hermione knew Summer had read between the lines and wondered how many times she and Ron had discussed him leaving his wife to be with her. Hermione almost felt sorry for her. Almost. Hermione then realized something in Ron’s speech.

“When you met Summer?” Hermione asked slowly, taking a step toward the couple. “Summer started here years ago. When did this little charade begin?” Hermione saw Summer squeeze her eyes shut, letting the tears stream down her face.

“Well,” Ron started, before looking to Summer, finding no help, and then looking back up to Hermione. She took another small step forward. “It’s been about...four years now?” Hermione froze and quietly gasped. They had been married for five. To think almost her entire marriage was a lie, it felt so painful. She faintly heard footsteps behind her.

“Okay, Ron,” Harry said, as he walked into Hermione’s field of vision without the other two wizards he had left with. “We need to bring you to St. Mungo’s; it’s protocol, you know.” Harry helped Ron stand as Summer stood as well, keeping her attention on her hands that were still folded at her waist. “Hermione, why don’t you wait in my office? I’ll be right back.” Hermione nodded, still lost in thought. Harry and Ron walked down the hall on their way to the Floo network, with Summer following closely behind. Hermione took a deep breath and went into Harry’s office to take a seat in one of the visitor chairs.

Hermione hugged her knees into her chest and began to sob uncontrollably, her tears finally falling freely down her face. _Where had it all gone wrong?_ She thought back on the last five years, trying to think of any moments where they argued or where she might have said the wrong thing. She couldn’t think of anything like that. Through their entire relationship, they had been complacent. Sure, they had had some intimacy issues, or lack thereof. It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy it; it was just that she always found more important things she’d rather be doing. Still, she didn’t have any problem with it, and Ron certainly never complained; although now, it was pretty clear why. Maybe that was the problem. Maybe they had just been going through the motions, content with just being. Maybe there wasn’t enough passion or heat. Maybe that’s why he needed to find it somewhere else. Maybe it really was all her fault. If only she had tried a little harder, if only...

The brush on Hermione’s shoulder surprised her. She looked up to see Harry kneeling down beside her, rubbing her shoulder gently. She drew in a shaky breath.

“I’m sorry,” Harry whispered solemnly. Hermione heard it all in those two words: sorry for not convincing Ron to tell her, sorry for not telling her himself, sorry for all the pain Ron was causing her. She nodded in understanding. “Ron’s spending the night at St. Mungo’s, and Malfoy’s been suspended for two weeks. Seamus has already escorted him home. Malfoy said he refuses to continue working with Ron, but that’s no surprise.”

“I’m sure he didn’t phrase it like that though,” Hermione replied, her voice raspy from crying.

“Well, there was a lot of cursing that I won’t repeat, and it took a long time to get him to calm down,” Harry said, sighing. “Ron said something about not wanting to return to a hostile work environment. Who knows how it’ll end up going? All I know is tomorrow’s going to be a long day of paperwork.” Hermione gave him a sympathetic smile.

“Malfoy left his wand on his desk, in case you needed to confiscate it. I’m still surprised he punched Ron.” Hermione’s voice was slowly returning back to normal.

“I grabbed it on my way back; thanks though. I’m not surprised at all. Ron’s always been able to get under his skin; that’s why I can never pair them together in projects. He’s always had this look in his eye that he wanted to punch Ron. I think the situation was just the last straw for him. Something had to give. I can’t have them both come back to work. They’ll literally kill each other,” Harry said, shaking his head. Hermione nodded in agreement.

“Isn’t it ironic,” Hermione started, pulling at a stray thread of her skirt, “that Ron would end up being the one to tear everything apart and Malfoy would be the one to...” Her voice trailed off, not sure how to phrase what he had just done for her.

“Who knew Malfoy would end up being a good friend, huh? Goes to show what a few years can do to a person. Anyway, it’s already almost five. I’m going to be heading home soon. Do you need a place to stay?” Hermione shook her head at his unspoken invitation.

“No, if Ron’s spending the night at St. Mungo’s, I’ll stay home for the night. I need one more night of normalcy until we start the whole process. Thanks though.” Hermione stood up and made her way to the doorway while Harry started to organize his desk. “And Harry? I’m still a little mad at you, but thanks for being there for me.”

After saying their goodnights, Hermione decided she wasn’t quite ready to go home. She didn’t bother to go back to her own office, knowing full well it would be deserted at the time of day, if Harry was already on his way out the door. Without second-guessing herself, Hermione Apparated to the one place she was sure to be welcomed, based on the day’s events.

She landed in front of a beautiful, white cottage in the foothills just outside of London. She had only been there a handful of times for various reasons. The sight of the mountains still took her breath away. She walked up to the front door, took a deep breath, and gave it three quick knocks.

“Granger?” Malfoy asked upon opening the door, silently inviting her in. “Is everything alright? I mean, other than the obvious.”

“It’s been a long day, but I wasn’t quite ready to head home. Harry mentioned you’ve been suspended for two weeks.” Hermione walked into the entryway as Malfoy closed the door behind her. “How’s the hand?”

“It hurts, but it’s nothing a little bruise removal paste won’t take care of. Now tell me: how much damage did I do?” Malfoy asked slyly, giving her a knowing glance. Hermione gave a small smile, her first true one since the whole debacle started.

“Well, you broke his nose and his jaw, and he’s spending the night at St. Mungo’s.” Hermione paused to take a breath. “I just came here to thank you for today. It means a lot to me, knowing you have my back. Even if it was extremely frightening.”

“I’m sorry.” It was one of only a handful of times Hermione heard him say those words, and she knew how important they were to him. “I didn’t mean to scare you. He just makes my skin crawl. I had been wanting to punch him for weeks. I shouldn’t have subjected you to it.”

“Oh, you don’t have to apologize for it. Anyway, if anyone should be apologizing, it’s me.” Malfoy furrowed his brow and pursed his lips slightly in confusion. “It’s my fault any of this happened. If I had been a better wife, or more attentive, or tried—” She was ready to list off the reasons she had already formed in her head as to what had brought her to this day, when Malfoy suddenly grabbed onto her shoulders, interrupting her.

“Granger. Listen to me.” He locked eyes with her. “ _Never_ blame yourself for the failures of others. He failed you, Granger, not the other way around. It is _not_ your fault that he’s too much of a _weasel_ to realize how much he’s losing. Alright?” Hermione nodded, her eyes becoming blurry with tears for the first time since leaving Harry’s office. Malfoy let go of her shoulders and wrapped his arms around her; she felt so small in that moment. “Do you need a place to stay?”

“No,” she mumbled against his hard chest. “I’ve decided I’m keeping at my apartment. Plus, Crookshanks is getting old, and I don’t want him to suffer through a move at his age.” She felt him nod against her head. He leaned back to look at her, keeping his arms around her.

“Just know that there’s always a room here for you, if you need one.” She nodded and gave a quiet “thanks” before pulling completely away from him.

“I should go. It has been a very long day, and I have a feeling tomorrow’s going to be an even longer one. Can I use your Floo? I’m not the biggest fan of Apparating; it always makes me feel dizzy.”

“Sure, of course.” He led her down the hallway to his study. “You already know, but I have no plans for the next two weeks. Feel free to stop by any time.” After their quick goodbyes, Hermione went through the Floo network to her apartment. She sat down at her kitchen table, taking a deep breath, feeling haggard from the day’s events. She looked around the apartment, being reminded of all the memories the place had given her. She began to wonder for the first time where her future would lead. She had a plan and life goals this morning, and now it felt as if she had to start all over again.

————

The next morning, Hermione only got out of bed to move onto the couch to cuddle with Crookshanks. She had sent a notice to her boss, saying she wouldn’t be making it into work that day, the first time she could ever remember doing such a thing. She sat there for a long while, lost in thought. Just then, Ron came into their apartment, looking apprehensive. He sat down next to her, keeping his hands to himself.

“Hermione?” She continued to pet Crookshanks slowly, acting as if she didn’t hear him, as if he hadn’t even entered the room. “I know you’re mad at me, and you have every right to be. You just have to hear me out, okay?” Still, she kept silent, keeping her eyes on Crookshanks who mewed softly. “Okay. The thing is, over the past few years, I haven’t been able to talk to you. You’re always busy, always working. I’ve felt like you always put yourself and your work first, instead of putting me first. I know that sounds extremely selfish, but that’s just how I felt and have been feeling. We’ve been falling apart for years, Hermione. Surely you’ve felt that too? If you just worked on a few things, we could work this all out together. Can you please talk to me? Say something? Anything?” Hermione took a deep breath before finally looking over to her husband.

“I just have one question, Ron,” she said simply, her eyes dry and tired from the night of crying. She sighed as he whispered a quiet “anything.” “When did you stop loving me?” He looked at her with his typical confused expression, and she felt the need to clarify. “Was there a moment? An argument? A comment I might have said? Because there’s no way someone who loves me would hurt me like this. So, when did you stop loving me?”

“Hermione,” Ron replied emphatically. “I never stopped loving you. You have to believe that. Summer, she means nothing to me. Absolutely nothing. She was just there when you weren’t, that’s all. She gave me what I needed when you wouldn’t.” Ron moved to the floor, kneeling at her feet. He grabbed onto her hand, and Crookshanks hopped off her lap.

“But you didn’t even ask.” She pulled her away and stood, her voice increasing in volume. “It’s lasted four years, Ronald. Four. Years. And you never once thought to ask. Ask me to work less. Ask me to be all those things you need me to be. Instead, you went straight to someone else. How was I supposed to know what you needed from me, without you telling me? I’m not a seer.”

“Please, Hermione. Please know how much I want this to work out. You’re my best friend. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Hermione looked down at her husband and took another deep breath.

“I can’t do this,” she whispered, almost to herself. “I can’t be with someone who doesn’t really want to be with me. Based on everything you’ve told me, I think you’d be much happier if you stayed with her. You said so yourself that it’s my fault; I don’t make you happy, and there are so many things I need to work on to keep you. I’m obviously not enough for you, or maybe I’m too much. She’s good for you, and she’s the one you want. You should go.”

“Hermione,” Ron said from his place on the floor. “If I walk out that door, I won’t be coming back. You know what that means, right?” Hermione nodded, tears forming in her eyes. Ron pushed himself up off the floor. “Okay. If you want me gone, then I’m gone. I love you, Hermione. Never forget that, please?” Again, Hermione nodded solemnly. Without another word, Ron walked to their apartment door. Before he left, Hermione spoke up.

“This is the moment,” she said adamantly. She didn’t recognize her own voice, so brittle but still so full of confidence. He half-turned to look at her with that same lost expression he always had. “If someone ever asks me, when did I stop loving you...this is the moment.” Hermione turned away from him and sat back down on the couch that destroyed her life. She heard the door open and close, almost grateful Ron didn’t bother having the last word. She stared down at her wedding band, which no longer held the promise it once did. She took another deep breath, wondering, not for the first time, where she would go from here.


End file.
